


Nightmares

by Heather



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Bloodplay, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-08
Updated: 2006-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:33:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather/pseuds/Heather





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fodian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fodian/gifts).



  
In their separate summers, each buried secretly beneath a crushing weight that neither can speak of, Connor and Angel dream.

The distance should've cut them off, separated them at last, broken their tie in a way that Connor had thought such an act of punishment should have. Angelus was away and beneath; it should not be this way.

Yet Connor is never gone for Angel, and the pull of blood never goes away. Their minds have become tangled together. Connor still senses his father's presence as if there were mere walls between them, not miles and miles of water, and deep in his sarcophagus, Angel still tastes his son.

When he was Steven--still Steven, only Steven--his father never spared him of the lessons of the demon's tricks. Carefully, oh so carefully, had he prepared his boy, and Connor has never fully been able to come to grips with the ways that demon disappointed him, in the things he did and the things he didn't.

"Vampires know nothing of family," His father had said. "They are bound by blood, and ignorant of what it makes them. Indeed, this tie gives them the excitement they need to bring them to full arousal. They lie with kin nearer than God can forgive, and it is only the very least of their sins."

Connor still remembers that first confrontation, when Angelus had spoken and lied and tossed him against walls. And he had been coiled and ready and screamed inside when what he had expected had never come, how Angelus must've laughed to addle his mind and flaunt his unacceptance of any plans to thwart him.

In his mind, Connor can easily see them: bone to flesh to blood to skin and round and round again, each slamming the other hard into walls, and in his darkest fears as a child and resigned near-hope as a man what had always happened next--how his clothes would tear and Angelus would grip him, and the touches on his young body, his hairless chest, his immature cock would be hard and bruising.

But that was never how Angel would've touched his son, never, not even in his darkest dreams when he would allow the trickles of blood tie and sex power to influence his mind. In his head, the kisses were gentle, the hands were gentle, and he thought only of pleasing a son grown to manhood who understood what he came from, who had developed the soft, vivid beauty of his mother. Connor had grown up to look exactly as Angel pictured him.

Oh, how Connor had detailed his plans, how he had worked to grow strong enough to make the sign of the cross when the time would come and drive Angelus to his knees. How his torn clothes and his naked body would not be such a hindrance then. His hands would slide into Angelus' hair, and the mouth that took him in would be cold, wet and resisting, and he would hold the monster still and look down at him in satisfaction as he became forcibly a toy--the way he'd done to Steven's mother, to lovely Caroline. Teeth and tongue would scrape against the length and power of him, and the tie Angelus had hoped to use to control him would now rule Angelus instead.

Angel takes this experience--driven to knees and pleasuring a young thing that should not have been able to overpower him thus--as part of his everlasting pain and necessary penance. He would curve his hands around Connor's hips--so fragile and pale--and give him what he wanted.

Connor feels it--the kissing and sucking, the fingers biting into his bones and the acceptance from his conquest, and knows true satisfaction; the Destroyer has mastered the demon, not the other way around, and he has proven he is better, damn it, he is stronger, he is more, they are not the same and they never will be. This demon is Connor's, but Connor is only ever his own.

But Angel is not alone inside his head, not ever, even when Connor is not there, and it all can still go so awry. For now there are fangs in his teeth and there is blood in his mouth and it feels so good, he can never stop.

Connor knows it when it happens, but it does not dampen his sense of victory. The pain is pleasure and the pleasure is pain and he waited so long for this, knew it was coming, that he cannot even be surprised, cannot even feel the proper hatred and revulsion. His hips are bruised and his eyes are tearing but he is laughing still, laughing as Angelus swallows the mess of saliva and blood and semen.

In his room in the Hyperion, Connor wakes up, sticky with sweat and seed and wet with frightened tears, and is happily alone. In his sarcophagus under the sea, Angel wakes up screaming into the water. There is no one to hear.   


For anybody reading me for the first time here (it's possible, there are new additions to my flist), please don't judge me by this! I promise, I usually am much better! ::cries::


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